Cute, Fluffy, Johnlocky Oneshots
by SopherGopher'sAwesomeSister
Summary: This is a series of cute, fluffy, Johnlocky oneshots. They don't really go in any order, nor are they super canonical. There's mild language, and I guess the only adult theme is John and Sherlock checking each other out in swimsuits, so take from that what you will.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: Hello, and welcome to my Sherlock oneshots! These are fluffy and Johnlockish, but John and Sherlock are not a couple, nor will they be in these oneshots. It's just cute. Enjoy! **

Sherlock and John were sprinting through an alley. BAM! A gunshot. John dropped into a somersault and Sherlock launched himself to the ground. They both jumped back up and resumed running. Sherlock was panting hard and was falling behind John.

"Come on, Sherlock! Just around this corner!" John yelled back. The man chasing them was yelling obscenities and waving his gun around.

They sped around the corner and almost ran into a squad car that was parked among three others, lights ablaze. Lestrade and Sally were hiding behind the open doors of one, guns ready to fire.

"He's right behind us!" Screamed John as he and Sherlock dove behind a group of black-clad police officers.

As their pursuer rounded the corner, Lestrade and Sally jumped out from behind the squad at and shoved the perp into handcuffs. They shoved him into a car, which promptly drove off.

Anderson walked over to John and Sherlock, who were sitting on the ground against a cop car, breathing hard. He tossed them each a bottle of water. "Looking a little off there, Sherlock, letting John beat you in a race!" He cackled and walked away.

John turned to face Sherlock after taking a swig of his water. "I hate to say it, but Anderson had a point. Are you feeling all right?"

Sherlock shrugged. "I'm a bit out of shape. Sometime the walk up the stairs to the flat gets me out of breath."

John set his water bottle on the asphalt and spun it between his hands. "Hey, I have an idea. We both should do something, be more active. We could join an adult kickball team!"

Sherlock almost spit out his water. "I will NOT play on a sports team with fat thirty-somethings where we have to kick a red rubber ball at each other. Golf?"

John groaned. "I won't even pretend I understand golf. We wouldn't get any exercise doing that anyways."

Both men continued to ponder athletic activities they could take part in on the cab ride back to 221b. Sherlock groaned when he saw the knocker on the door. It was perfectly straight. He slammed the door open and marched up the stairs.

"Mycroft!" Sherlock yelled. He ripped off his scarf and coat and tossed them over a chair. John calmly picked both items up and hung them on the hook between the doorways.

"Hello, brother," cooed Mycroft from his spot in the kitchen. He was leaning against the counter with his cane propped up against his crossed legs.

Sherlock leaned heavily against the door frame. "What are you doing here, Mycroft?"

Mycroft smiled. "Can't a man go visit his brother?"

"Only if he wants something," coughed Sherlock. He cleared his throat. "I mean, brotherly love."

Mycroft smiled coyly. "As you're well aware, I'm trying to lose some weight, and as I'm sure you're also aware, it isn't going very well. I would like to try to take up swimming and I have a certain pool in mind, but I don't want to test it out myself. I would like you and John to go scout it out for me."

John joined Sherlock in the doorway. "You want us to go swimming? We were looking for something active to do."

"Mm. Yes. As tempting as that offer is, I'm afraid John and I have to-" Sherlock began.

"We'll do it." Said John firmly, putting a hand on Sherlock's shoulder. Mycroft watched this action bemusedly, but said nothing of it.

* * *

"I cannot believe you talked me into this," growled Sherlock. He and John were both wearing swim trunks. His were dark green and John's were navy. Sherlock was wearing a t-shirt with his coat and scarf over it. John wore a sweatshirt. They were riding in a cab to, incidentally, the same pool where Moriarty had strapped a bomb to John.

"It gets you in Mycroft's good graces, and we both get some exercise. Who knows, this could become a Sunday morning routine for us!" John said. Sherlock rolled his eyes and adjusted the grip on the bag he was holding.

* * *

John was already in the empty pool when Sherlock emerged from the locker room, holding two towels. He caught his breath when Sherlock put the towels down and John could see him shirtless. Sherlock was very pale and skinny, but he had prominent abs that John couldn't stop staring at.

Sherlock felt the same way when he caught sight of John. John seemed kind of flubby when he was wearing a jumper and jeans, but in reality he was fairly heavily muscled. Sherlock ran a hand through his curly hair, but then he realised he was staring and cleared his throat. "Ahem. Well, shall we get started?"

John grinned. "Come on in, the water's great!" He patted the water, causing it to splash slightly.

Sherlock cautiously dipped a long toe into the water. He shrugged, sat down on the edge of the pool and slid in. Once he had entered the water, he pulled a pair of lime green goggles out of the pocket of his swim trunks.

John burst out laughing. "What the HELL are those?!"

Sherlock pulled them over his curls and over his eyes. He looked like a skinny white alien. "These are goggles."

John was struggling to contain his guffaws. "I see that. Why are you wearing them?"

Sherlock pulled the goggles onto his forehead and put his hands on his slim hips. "Some people can open their eyes underwater, but I do not posses that ability."

John nodded seriously. "Yes. I completely see your point."

"Of course you do. You do have some sense in that nice head of yours." Sherlock said. He pulled the goggles back over his eyes with a popping noise and dove under the water. He attacked John's legs and pulled him under the water.

John popped back up, spluttering. "Sherlock!" He coughed. Sherlock stood up beside John, water streaming down his lean body (which John immediately noticed).

"Are you all right? I hope you didn't ingest too much-"

John jumped on top of Sherlock, dunking him under the water before he could finish his sentence. When they both resurfaced, Sherlock said, "I'm beginning to suspect this was a ploy to get us to go swimming together."

John was beaming with happiness. "We can tell him this pool will work well for whatever he wants to use it for."

* * *

Mycroft was sitting in his dark office, watching Sherlock and John play in the water on a monitor on his computer. He grinned proudly at his accomplishment, then switched the monitor to a conference meeting.


	2. Chapter 2

John and Sherlock were sitting at their kitchen table eating breakfast, John reading the newspaper and Sherlock contemplatively watching him.

"What did you just read?" Sherlock asked.

John looked up, startled. "Sorry, what?"

Sherlock took a sip of his tea. "I said, what did you just read?" Seeing John's look of confusion, he added, "Your eyes just lit up like a child on Christmas. What was it?"

"Oh, there was a small article about an amusement park that opens this weekend. I haven't been to one in ages."

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "Sounds like you'd like to."

John began folding the newspaper so he could easily do the crossword. "I would, actually. D'you want to come with me? We could go this weekend!"

Sherlock rolled his eyes, but took notice of the light in John's eyes. He sighed. "If it would make you happy, I'll come with you."

John beamed. "This'll be grand. Hang on, what's an eight-letter word for improving humans or animals?"

"Eugenics," said Sherlock, before taking a large bite of his English muffin.

* * *

John and Sherlock pushed through the turnstiles at the Queen's Mountain Amusement Park. Children chased each other around, holding candy floss and small stuffed animals.

"Oh, look, Sherlock! The Wind-Viper!" John exclaimed, pointing at a huge roller coaster. "Can we go on that? I love roller coasters!"

Sherlock glanced around at the other rides. "Let's save that one for last. We could go on that...purple swirly death machine." He gestures vaguely to his right. John craned his neck to see.

"Ooh, a Lean-And-Swirl! Those are the best! Come on!" John pulled Sherlock by the hand to the ride. The waited in a short line before boarding the ride with a small blond girl.

Sherlock eyes the girl warily. "What if she vomits all over us?"

"She's just a kid, they have a good tolerance for these sorts of things," said John reassuringly. The girl was smiling at them joyfully.

The ride suddenly jolted, and they began spinning in circles, faster and faster. The little girl started to scream with delight. John also began to whoop as the ride picked up speed. Sherlock looked unimpressed an slightly annoyed, since the spinning was causing his hair to fly all over the place.

John practically skipped off of the Lean-And-Swirl. "Let's play one of the carnival games!"

Twenty pounds later, neither John or Sherlock had managed to win anything. "These games are rigged!" Cried Sherlock angrily as the ring he was supposed to be throwing onto a bottle went horribly astray.

"Here, just a gentle flick of your wrist..." John moved behind Sherlock and held his hand within his own, showing him how to do it. "And there you have it!" The blue ring landed squarely on top of a glass bottle.

"Here you go, sir," said the man running the game. He handed John a huge stuffed bear, who in turn gave it to Sherlock.

Sherlock peered over the top of the frankly outrageously sized toy. "Shall we ride that roller coaster now?"

* * *

Sherlock was getting antsy. He kept telling himself he was not nervous, it was only a mere children's ride, but when he glanced up at the huge drop he felt a bead of sweat roll down his face. John, on the other hand, was bouncing excitedly.

"Look at them go!" John cried, pointing at the cars that had just gone down the steep decline. Their screams made Sherlock shudder. They sounded like try were being tortured.

"Are you sure you want to ride this one, John? It's perfectly all right if you want to leave now."

John looked at Sherlock in mock horror. "I'm appalled that you would even suggest such a thing! This coaster is what this park is famous for, you can't come here and not ride it! Besides, roller coasters have never bothered me."

Just as John finished speaking, it was their turn to board the roller coaster. They sat four seats from the front. A woman wearing a Queen's Mountain uniform came around and checked their safety bar and belts.

The gears started to move and their car slowly inched up the first big drop. John grabbed Sherlock's hand absent-mindedly and held on tight. Sherlock looked at their conjoined hands in surprise, but said nothing of it. He actually kind of liked it.

They stopped precariously at the very top, and without warning, they flew down the tracks, around three loops, and down two more drops. Sherlock felt his stomach drop, then fly up to his throat. He knew this wasn't actually possible, but that's what it felt like. He snuck a look at John, who looked very ill. He gave his hand a gentle squeeze to let him know everything was going to be all right.

Before they knew it, the ride was over. As they disembarked, Sherlock decided that that was the most fun he'd had in a long time. He was about to tell John that, but remarked on the colour of his face instead. "John, you look positively green. Are you sure roller coasters don't bother you?"

John put a hand to his churning stomach. "Oof. I might be a bit too old for these now. I told you, it's been ages." He winced as his stomach bubbled noisily. Sherlock chuckled softly, guiding John to their cab with on hand on the small of his back, and the other wrapped around an enormous stuffed bear.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: WARNING. SPOILER ALERT. IF YOU HAVE NOT READ TFIOS, THIS SPOILS THE ENDING. SPOILERS. **

John came bursting into Sherlock's bedroom. Sherlock was in the midst of putting on his pyjamas; he was currently shirtless and wearing only his boxers. John froze, his mouth agape as he stared at Sherlock's almost bare body. Sherlock put his hands on his hips.

"Are you going to stand there and ogle or do you have something to tell me?" He demanded sleepily.

John found his voice after a moment and held up a book with a blue cover. "I just finished this book, I thought you would like to read it."

"I didn't think you read about about the types of tobacco leaves, John. Expanding your horizons?" Sherlock began pulling on a silk dressing gown.

John looked at the cover. "It's not really your cup of tea, but it was absolutely amazing. There's this girl-"

Sherlock held up a hand. "John. This better not be some teenage porno book."

"No, of course not! I don't read those, what... Anyway, it would mean a lot to me if you read it. Have a box of tissues handy," said John. He tossed the book onto Sherlock's bed and left the room.

Sherlock hopped onto his bed and glanced at the book. "'The Fault in Our Stars'." He sighed. "That sounds stupid." He picked the book up and read the description. "Still sounds stupid." Sherlock closed his eyes and breathes deeply. _But John wants me to, so..._ Sherlock opened the book.

* * *

John sat in the living room at the desk, scrolling haphazardly on Sherlock's laptop. He glanced at the time. 2:17. He yawned. He meandered down the hallway to his room, but paused when he heard sniffling from Sherlock's bedroom. He cautiously opened the door.

"Sherlock?" He whispered. "Are you all right?" Sherlock was sitting in bed, staring at the wall. His face was red from crying. John perched on the edge of the bed. He noticed his book on the floor across the room. It appeared as if Sherlock had thrown it.

"It isn't fair, John. Why did Augustus have to die? It was the perfect love story!" Sherlock cried, throwing himself into John's arms. John awkwardly patted Sherlock's back.

"There, there... Not all stories have a happy ending. Did you actually finish the book, or did you throw the book when he died?" John murmured.

"I don't care how it ends. This John Green person is more evil than Moriarty and Magnussen combined." Sherlock said into John's lap.

John pulled himself out from under Sherlock and retrieved the book. He kicked off his shoes and laid down on Sherlock's bed. John patted the space beside him. "Come on. We'll finish the book together."

Sherlock crawled up over and sat stiffly beside John. John began to quietly read. When there were especially sad parts, he would let the tears roll down his cheeks and continue reading in a thick voice.

Eventually, John closed the book softly. "Sherlock, are you all right?" He murmured.

Sherlock nodded slightly. John moved to get up, but Sherlock held him down. "I need someone right now. I'm distressed."

"You know, they're making a movie out of this book," commented John.

Sherlock pounded a fist on John's chest. John coughed as the air was forces out of him. "Okay, okay, calm down!"

"Please don't say okay to me, all right?" Sherlock mumbled.

"Okay," whispered John.


	4. Chapter 4

Sherlock entered 221b, holding a large brown paper bag. He entered the kitchen, where John was making tea.

"Oh, Sherlock, you got the groceries for once, brilliant!" John exclaimed when he saw the bag in Sherlock's arms.

Sherlock shoved dirty dishes out of the way on the kitchen table and dumped the contents of the bag. At least 10 disc cases came out, along with a box that apparently held an Xbox.

John raised an eyebrow. "What's that for, Sherlock?" He took a sip of his tea.

"I went out to get a new battery for my phone at the electronics store, and the clerk was very persuasive." Sherlock mumbled. He was opening the box that held the video game console. "I don't think I actually got that battery. John, go get it for me." Sherlock went into their living room to begin playing with his Xbox.

"Okay..." John said, mostly to himself as Sherlock was entranced in a virtual wonderland.

"I'll grab some takeout on the way back, yeah?" He thought he heard Sherlock grunt in reply.

* * *

John set the Chinese food and the phone battery on the kitchen table. He was slightly frightened by the state Sherlock was in. He had pulled his favourite chair up close to the television, and had a quilt draped over his head and wrapped around his body. He hadn't appeared to notice that John had arrived.

"Sherlock? I've got Chinese," said John. Sherlock just grunted. John wandered into the living room, eating noodles off of a plate. He had absolutely no idea what Sherlock was playing, but it was quite violent. "Ooh," John winced. "Don't you get tired of blood and guts everywhere?" Sherlock ignored him.

John sighed and walked back into the kitchen. He grabbed a fortune cookie out of the take out bag and, after testing the weight in his hand, lobbed it at Sherlock's head. The cookie just bounced off of his head. Sherlock didn't move.

"Sherlock!" John shouted. No reaction. Hurried footsteps came up the stairs. Mrs. Hudson poked her head through the door.

"Is everything all right up here, boys?" She asked.

"Sherlock's in a coma." John said, rolling his eyes. "He discovered video games. I think he's making up for a lost teenager-hood. He's been sitting there for ages."

"Oh, dear. Well, I'm sure he'll come out of it soon enough. Yell if you need anything!" Mrs. Hudson called. She was halfway down the stairs.

John meandered over to where Sherlock was sitting. "It's getting late, I'm going to get to bed. You should too, this stuff'll rot your brain."

"Oh, please, John, that's obviously a myth." Sherlock mumbled. John sighed. _Well, at least he spoke,_ thought John.

* * *

John groaned and rolled over. He looked at the clock and groaned. 3:47. He had been awoken by violent screaming and squelching noises. He groggily pulled on a robe and padded into the living room. Sherlock hadn't appeared to have moved except to change the game he was playing.

"Sherlock, have you been sitting here playing this whole time?" John asked.

"Yes. I've found this rather addictive, possibly more so than morphine ever was. Unfortunately, this does not allow you to get up and urinate as often as I would like." Sherlock said. His voice was scratchy.

"Have you had anything to eat or drink at least?"

Sherlock shook his head. John sighed and went to the kitchen to get a glass of water. He brought it back out and held it out to Sherlock. He didn't move to take it. John stood in front of the television.

"Move, you're blocking my view of the telly!" Growled Sherlock, who was craning his neck around John.

John crouched down in front of Sherlock. "Pause the game," he commanded. Sherlock ignored him. John moved his head closer to Sherlock's. "Pause. The. Game." John enunciated more clearly. Sherlock obeyed this time and looked into John's eyes. "Now. This is not healthy behaviour for anyone, especially not you. You haven't moved in at least five hours. You haven't eaten in who knows how many. Drink this." John held the glass of water right in between he and Sherlock's eyes. Shakily, Sherlock gripped the glass and took a sip. Apparently, the sip was so good he downed the entire glass in two more gulps.

"Excellent. Now come in the kitchen. I'll make you some oatmeal." John pulled the blanket off of Sherlock's mussed up curls and held his arm as he walked him to the kitchen.

Sherlock sat at the kitchen table silently before speaking up. "Thank you, John. I didn't realise how crappy this was making me feel."

John glanced at Sherlock. "Of course, mate. What are friends for, if not to stave off an impending addiction?"

* * *

The following morning, John made Sherlock present a lucky passing child with a like-new Xbox and a pile of games. John grinned when he saw the look of disbelief on the kid's face when Sherlock told him he could keep it.

John slung an arm around Sherlock's shoulders. "How about we check out that new arcade they built a couple blocks away?"

"GOD no. I've had enough of video games for a life-time. Let's go to an art museum or a garden or something." Sherlock spit.

Mrs. Hudson came running out of 221b. "Greg Lestrade's on the line, asking you boys to come help him with some murder in an arcade?"

"Damn," muttered Sherlock.


End file.
